


Don't

by dirtybadwrong (MarcelinesNightosphere)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Food Sex, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, POV First Person, Victim eating, the writer was stoned, this is fucked up don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcelinesNightosphere/pseuds/dirtybadwrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's watched his brother and friends murdered, cooked, and eaten. If only his own fate wasn't so cruel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't

The florescent lights were giving me a headache. We’d been there two days. At least, this is what I thought; the passage of time seemed to stop when we were pulled from our home half a week ago. Ripped from our beds, we were thrown into trucks and transported somewhere, but even though the sun was shining and the sky was blue and pleasant, the pain and confusion clouded all the beauty of the afternoon. Then we were taken elsewhere. 

The first day was filled with drastic temperature shifts, water torture, and knives. Only a few of us survived. I watched as my neighbor was gutted and cut into pieces. Red spilled out, pooling on the slab. The murderers laughed and chatted the whole time as if this villainous act was normal - I think they may have even been flirting. My brother faced the same fate as my neighbor. They cut him and cooked him. They ate his flesh. And there was nothing I could do but watch. 

 

I floated in and out of consciousness. The relentless hum of the lights was only drowned out by their voices when they returned, laughing and talking about plans for the weekend. I tried to listen to what they were saying, but my head was killing me. Music filled the room. I expected something angry, something gritty, something that would make me fear for my life - maybe classical music as a creepy yet calming backdrop to this spectacle of sin; instead, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Ed Sheeran. 

As their words started to make sense, I wished I wasn’t hearing what I most certainly was. 

“If I was your sex rabbit, I’d have to have a tail,” one said, his tone almost daring the other. 

The other picked up my friend and without any ado bit his bottom half off and spat it into the sink. I reeled as he held up what was left of my friend, just his orange top and leafy greens. 

I forgot to mention:

I am a celery.

“Bet this would make a good tail,” he said with a wicked smile and a southern drawl.

How could they not know the pain they were inflicting? I watched in horror as they kissed and laughed, tossing the mutilated bodies of my friends into the sink as they made dinner. I resigned my fate, whatever it may be. No matter what happened, it was going to be terrible. But I didn’t know just how horrible it would be. 

One suggested a snack as they pushed a dish into the oven. As soon as I saw the peanut butter, a cold fear washed over me. I had heard of this, in terrible tales whispered at night. I was picked up and used as a scoop, lifting the peanut butter out of the jar. Then came the bite. 

Human teeth are not as sharp as you would like them to be. Rather than a quick cut you don’t really feel, the gnashing, however quick, is blindingly painful. I passed out from the shock. 

When I awoke, I was being gripped, shoved somewhere I could -- no. No. This was far worse than any nightmare, of any campfire story.

  
Where is God?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [SO FUCKING SORRY](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/)


End file.
